In the seventh year of the Qianyuan era of the Great Zhou, after the New Year, the emperor changed the reign era name to Yonghe. Since the change took effect mid-year, the first year of Yonghe began in the sixth month.
The weather had already turned hot, and the grand hall felt even warmer. The officials, dressed in court attire, had sweat soaking through the backs of their robes.
The court assembly was still in session, but the emperor was not seated on the imperial throne. Instead, on a four-legged stool placed one step below the throne, the First Prince sat upright and proper.
Compared to half a year ago, the twelve-year-old First Prince had grown significantly taller and appeared slimmer. Dressed in royal court robes, he now carried a somewhat imperial presence in the solemn hall.
Standing in the ranks, Grand Coordinator Gao looked at the First Prince above with a faint smile.
The change of the reign era name had been auspicious. Since the new era was proclaimed, days had become more smooth-sailing. He had obtained the additional honorary title of Attendant Scholar, becoming one of the few dozen officials in the court to hold such a position. No longer was he merely a imperial relative with titles like General of the Jinwu Guard; this new role granted him a greater voice in court discussions, unlike before when he often had to rely on others to speak on his behalf.
With his own affairs progressing smoothly, the First Prince had also shown remarkable improvement. After the New Year, he seemed to have matured suddenly – more sensible, diligent in his studies, and praised by his tutors. The emperor increasingly relied on him, and during court hearings, he no longer behaved childishly as before. Instead, he listened attentively without distraction.
The court assembly soon concluded, and the officials proceeded to the rear hall, where the emperor was waiting.
“…What do you think of this matter?”
The First Prince had entered first to briefly report on the day’s court affairs, and the emperor’s inquiring voice could be heard from within.
“…I believe Master Li’s words make great sense, but it would be better to send someone to personally verify the situation before drawing conclusions. I myself am not well-versed in this matter – I’ve only read about it in books, which is why I think it’s worth investigating…”
“It’s good that you think this way.”
Hearing this conversation, Grand Coordinator Gao – or rather, Attendant Scholar Gao, as he was now known – smiled even more warmly.
He was destined for an external posting sooner or later, but even when leaving, he wanted to do so with peace of mind. The current state of the First Prince gave him exactly that reassurance.
The door opened, and the First Prince stepped out, returning the ministers’ salutations with precise and measured gestures. His every movement was meticulous and impeccably courteous, leaving no room for criticism. The assembled officials could not help but show admiration.
The child had truly grown up.
As the First Prince turned to leave, his pace quickened slightly while passing through the corridor. His previously still hands began to swing naturally, his wide sleeves swaying with a youthful energy that hinted at boyish innocence.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
The First Prince’s voice echoed through the Empress Dowager’s palace – loud, cheerful, and brimming with youthful vitality.
“Lower your voice. If the Emperor hears, he will scold you again for lacking decorum,” the Imperial Consort said, rising with a light laugh.
Reclining on her couch, the Empress Dowager shook her head with an affectionate smile.
Several other consorts were also seated nearby, along with two princesses of similar age and another about a year old. As the First Prince approached, they greeted him warmly amid laughter and cheerful chatter – respectful yet lively.
“What lack of decorum? This isn’t the imperial court,” the Empress Dowager said with a laugh, beckoning the First Prince to sit beside her. “You’re only twelve years old – sitting through half a day at court must be exhausting, isn’t it?”
She then urged the palace maids to bring a fan and refreshments.
The First Prince knelt respectfully beside the Empress Dowager, looking completely at ease.
“It’s not tiring. How could I complain after just half a day? His Majesty works hard day after day,” he replied earnestly.
The Empress Dowager beamed even more warmly, patting his shoulder and praising him repeatedly.
“You still have to attend your lectures, don’t you?” she asked with a hint of concern. “Would you like to rest for a day? You must be exhausted.”
“Your Majesty, I’m not tired at all! Besides, I’ve already memorized everything the tutor will teach – I’m fully prepared,” the First Prince declared proudly, his voice brimming with confidence.
“Si Ge’er is truly brilliant,” the consorts around them chimed in with admiration.
The First Prince’s smile widened, and the Imperial Consort also glowed with contentment.
“When will Duke Jin’an and Liu Ge’er return?”
Amid the lively atmosphere, a young princess asked in her childish voice.
The mood instantly grew somber.
A consort nearby immediately realized the child had spoken out of turn and quickly reached to hold the princess.
“…Indeed, indeed. If they were here, they would surely be delighted by the First Prince’s diligence and brilliance,” she hurriedly added.
The other consorts hastily voiced their agreement, and someone quickly brought up recent lighthearted news to change the subject. Nevertheless, the Empress Dowager’s expression remained somewhat downcast.
After staying a short while longer, the First Prince rose to take his leave. The consorts also excused themselves one after another, and the Empress Dowager’s chambers gradually grew quiet.
“Where has Wei Ge’er taken Liu Ge’er now?” the Empress Dowager murmured softly.
“A month ago, word was they had left Mount Heng. They heard there was a renowned doctor in Su-zhou, so they likely have reached that area by now,” a palace maid promptly replied in a hushed tone.
The Empress Dowager raised her hand, counting silently on her fingers.
“It’s been over half a year already. Why hasn’t that child returned? Those so-called ‘divine doctors’ – most are just boastful frauds. How could he take them seriously…” she sighed.
“The Duke… still refuses to give up,” the maid whispered.
The Empress Dowager sighed once more, lay back, and closed her eyes.
“Sooner or later, it will come to pass.”
Not daring to respond, the maid quietly drew the bed curtains and withdrew on light footsteps.
Meanwhile, the Imperial Consort pushed aside the curtain with clear irritation.
“Was Consort Liu doing this on purpose? Is she afraid everyone might forget that fool?” she said sharply. “Every time we’re enjoying ourselves, she has to bring it up.”
The palace maids and eunuchs kept their heads bowed, not daring to speak.
“Princess Shuhui is already so grown up – it’s high time she received proper guidance. With her mother coming from a bricklayer’s family and spending all her time mixing in those circles, what decent things could she possibly learn?” the Imperial Consort said resentfully. “Send Princess Shuhui to Consort Zhu. She comes from a family of scholars and knows how to raise a child with refinement.”
Unlike the Empress Dowager’s melancholy or the Imperial Consort’s displeasure, the First Prince’s mood remained unaffected. Seated in his study, he recited a passage from the classics accurately and fluently. As his tutor praised him, a bright smile spread across his face.
No more comparisons. No more of those wretched maps. No more endless reprimands.
Now, everyone liked him. Everyone sought to please him. This was the life he was meant to have.
How good life was now.
Without that child around, everything had truly improved – and he, himself, was now the best.
“Sir,” the First Prince said, sitting up straight, his voice clear and bright, “I would like to review the lesson from the day before yesterday. There are still a few points I’m not entirely clear on.”
At the Chen family’s countryside estate, the entire household had moved there this month to escape the summer heat.
“Shi’ba-niang! Shi’ba-niang!”
Chen Dan-niang came running into the courtyard. After the New Year, she had grown a bit taller and become even more agile. Her running no longer looked awkward but rather as light and graceful as a fluttering butterfly.
The maids in Chen Shi’ba-niang’s courtyard hurried forward to steady her.
“Lady Dan, Shi’ba-niang is practicing calligraphy. Please try not to disturb her,” they whispered softly.
Chen Dan-niang let out an “oh,” a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“Why is she still writing on such a hot day? Grandfather said we’re going out for a meal,” she said, rising on tiptoe to peer inside.
Chen Shi’ba-niang’s study had its doors and windows open. Through the greenery, one could see her sitting upright – her dark outer robe, her long hair tied back simply without any ornaments. This had become her signature style. No matter the time or occasion, she was instantly recognizable.
Hearing the voices outside, she turned her head slightly.
“You go with Grandfather. I won’t be joining,” she said. “I still have two more pages of characters to practice.”
Chen Dan-niang stood under the eaves, peering into the study. Calligraphy models hung on the walls, and several more were spread across the floor.
“What’s so interesting about writing characters?” she asked, puzzled. “You’re already very good at it.”
Chen Shi’ba-niang shook her head, her gaze fixed on the large characters hanging on the calligraphy screen in front of her.
If I practice more, can I become as good as you?
No. Sometimes it takes innate talent.
Innate talent?
Chen Shi’ba-niang pressed her lips together, straightened her arm, and continued writing – one character at a time.
Chen Dan-niang felt a little bored.
“You’re really not coming? We’re going to Tai Ping Residence,” she said.
Chen Shi’ba-niang paused her writing and looked up at Dan-niang. A faint smile touched her lips as a thought crossed her mind.
“Dan-niang, do… do you still remember Lady Cheng?” she asked.
Chen Dan-niang nodded, though her expression lacked the enthusiasm of the previous year. A child’s memory is fleeting – intense during moments together, yet fading just months after parting.
It had been nearly a year since Lady Cheng left the capital.
She had heard from her mother that Lady Cheng had also left Jiang-zhou and was now traveling somewhere unknown. Perhaps she would never return.
Thinking back now, that woman had come without a trace and left without a shadow. Not only had a child like Dan-niang nearly forgotten her – even Chen Shiba-niang’s own memories were growing hazy. It was almost as if such a person had never existed in the capital at all.
“Are you coming or not? If you don’t, I won’t bring you back any bean curd,” Chen Dan-niang’s voice broke through Chen Shi’ba-niang’s reverie.
Bean curd. Tai Ping Residence. Immortal’s Abode. And the calligraphy at Qieting Temple.
No, she had not been a figment of imagination. Not only had she existed – she had left behind many traces. Though unknown to most, those who were aware could never forget her presence.
She had arrived suddenly and left quietly, yet in just one short year, she had imprinted herself deeply upon the capital. In every small and not-so-small ripple of change, her influence could be faintly traced. Most remarkably, those who didn’t know her would never sense her absence, while those who did could hardly erase her from memory.
Chen Shi’ba-niang smiled faintly, pressing her lips together.
“I can go enjoy it myself another time. You all go ahead,” she said with a light laugh. “Don’t eat so much you become a little chubby.”
At seven years old, Chen Dan-niang already had a sense of beauty and image. She wrinkled her nose, then turned and scampered away.
In the summer, business at Immortal’s Abode was quieter compared to Tai Ping Residence. However, this didn’t give anyone cause for concern – even if things were slow, it certainly didn’t mean the establishment was about to close.
Ban Qin was glancing over the account books while swiftly moving counting rods, all without pausing her conversation.
“…Is Fourth Young Master returning next month? Why so soon?” she asked.
Chun Ling sat across from her, watching in admiration as Ban Qin managed to use her hands, eyes, and mouth all at once – her focus divided yet impressively efficient. She seemed so captivated that she almost didn’t hear the question.
Ban Qin smiled at her expression and repeated the question.
“Lady Ban Qin, you are truly remarkable,” Chun Ling exclaimed, still not answering but full of admiration.
“Don’t call me ‘lady.’ I’m just like you – someone who serves,” Ban Qin replied.
“How can you say that!” Chun Ling cried out, looking almost startled, waving her small hands anxiously. “I am lowly and insignificant – how could I possibly compare to you?”
“Lowly? It’s not as if you chose to be in that situation. Anyone who didn’t choose their path is clean at heart,” Ban Qin said gently. “Please, don’t call me ‘lady.’ That title belongs to my mistress. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Chun Ling nodded somewhat awkwardly in agreement.
“Fourth Young Master said the tutor is entering court service, so the school will be closed for now. It will reopen two years from now when the grand examinations are held,” she finally answered the earlier question.
Ban Qin nodded in understanding.
“Yes, the master has taken on a new official duty,” she said, then called over a servant to arrange for renting carriages and horses, purchasing gifts, and checking if there were enough funds. “If it’s not enough, advance him the money from my mistress’s account for now.”
“Should we have him sign an IOU?” the servant asked with a laugh. Over the past six months, they had subsidized Cheng Si-lang quite a bit.
“Ah, if I can’t even make a small decision like this, what’s the point of an IOU?” Ban Qin replied with a smile.
Chun Ling quickly nodded in agreement.
“Yes, yes! You do all the hard work. It’s really not fair – how can someone work so hard yet not be allowed to decide how to spend the money?” she said, sounding a little puzzled.
Ban Qin glanced at her.
“That’s not the right way to put it,” she said. “This isn’t my credit. Someone else built the ladder – I just climbed it. How can I claim it as my own achievement? This is simply my duty. One must never forget their place.”
“Yes, yes! Even though I’m from Desheng Pavilion, my lady treats me exceptionally well, so I will serve her faithfully. Ban Qin, that’s what ‘duty’ means, right?” Chun Ling asked earnestly, her eyes wide.
Ban Qin’s expression softened, and she nodded with a smile.
Chun Ling then stood up to take her leave. As she stepped out of Immortal’s Abode, not a trace of a smile remained on her face. She glanced back with a look of resentment.
So stubborn and unyielding… What’s so great about that lady? How could anyone be so willing to be her loyal dog!
